Between the Lines
by Mike N
Summary: Ch 1 - Hope and Scott have a long-overdue discussion. Ch 2 - Jean and Charles discuss some unanswered questions. Ch 3 - Young Scott and Ororo have a discussion. Ch 4 - Logan and Ororo meet in regards to his outburst. Ch 5 - Hank gets an unexpected guest. Ch 6 - Jean and Rachel finally talk, while older Hank realizes the consequences of his actions through his younger self.
1. Between the Lines

"Who am I?"

Scott Summers, the leader of the X-Men, stopped writing, freezing in place for just a moment as the inquiry registered within his mind. He was torn—it was the last question that he wanted to hear, but simultaneously, it was the question he had been waiting for her to ask. It wasn't as if he had been avoiding the topic, it just simply fell to the backburner, buried beneath the other more pressing matters, like the survival of mutantkind.

He patiently set his pen down and gazed at his visitor through his standard civilian pair of ruby quartz glasses. Leaning back in his leather-cushioned chair, Scott returned, "What kind of a question is that, Hope?"

Her emerald eyes flashed with annoyance and her full lips pressed into a frown. "When did you start answering questions with questions? I spent the afternoon researching in Cerebro and with the Stepford Cuckoos."

It was Scott's turn to be annoyed. "I asked them not to meddle."

The young redhead pushed a few lone strands of hair from her fair face. "It's not their place to withhold information from me. And it's not yours. Not when I want to know. I want to know why I'm here. Who my parents are. How this crazy string of clones, reincarnations, and family history tie in with me," she said, keeping her voice as steady as possible.

Hope Summers too had busied herself, trying not to think about her surrogate father, Cable, being killed for her sake. She pushed away any thought of the other mutants that lost their lives during the tumultuous battle that was ultimately caused by her presence. But there was only so much ignoring that she could do—the questions kept coming back, stronger and more pressing every time. Getting them answered was way overdue.

Scott answered, "It's complicated."

"What isn't? Why have you been avoiding this conversation with me?" her voice sharpened and her brows arched in anger. She wished that Scott's glasses were translucent, so she could see his eyes. Right now, he looked way too cool, nonchalant, and uncaring, which only made her angrier.

"I haven't had time."

Hope's jaw clenched. "You haven't had time for much, have you?"

"Are you being sincere or was that a cheap shot?"

"The latter suits my mood."

Scott shook his head. "I should get back to—"

"No!" she slammed her hand on his desk, and a picture behind him toppled. "Cable is dead! He was the closest thing to a father that I knew! And he was your son! You act like you don't even care! I know exactly why you've been avoiding me...this conversation...it's because of Je—"

"Enough," he calmly replied.

"No, that's not enough. I see it in all of you, the hidden glances, the delicate treatment, the awkward conversations. They won't say anything because you won't. They may not like you, but they at least respect you enough to obey your unspoken laws. But I'm not an X-Man. I don't have to obey your strict rule over Utopia and the others."

Surprised at her frank comments, Scott reared back in his seat. With Logan and Emma having similar outbursts at least twice a week, he was used to the scathing tone and pointed words. In response, he coolly said, "It's not like that."

"It is, whether you realize it or not."

An uneasy silence fell between them. For Scott, it was a moment of contemplation over her words. For Hope, it was a moment of reflection to determine whether she had said too much. They locked eyes, and for a moment Hope felt that Scott actually understood her.

"There are things about you that I don't want to know," he began. "And there are things that you aren't ready to know, Hope. I can answer some of your questions, but I've always wanted you to be your own person, free from the manipulations and desires of everyone else. Jean didn't have that chance. She was always at the mercy of something far greater than her. She was a strong woman—a strong person, stronger than I can ever be. But because of others, she was never free to be that woman—to live her life without complexities. The cycle of life and death, complications, manipulations, loss—that's all she experienced."

Hope heard the tenderness and sorrow in his voice, and for a moment, regretted her initial approach. She couldn't tell for sure, but it seemed that he needed to grieve, but wouldn't let himself, which only saddened her.

Understanding, she responded, "You can't ignore the times that she was happy, Scott."

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

"I don't know what the truth is about you. You look exactly like her—Jean. It pains me every time I see you. You're a constant reminder of how I failed her. I can't fail anyone else like that ever again. I've asked the medical staff to refrain from doing any tests on you because I'm afraid that they'll tell me that you really are Jean. If we knew that for a fact, we would shape you to be the woman that we lost—a friend, mentor, teacher, mother, confidant...all those things she was. But is that fair to you? I look at you, and I see Jean. I talk to you, and I hear Jean. But I know that you are different, somehow. You're Hope. And you should have that chance to be who you are, not who we want you to be."

"Are you doing this to protect me or yourself?"

"Both."

The answer stunned Hope, changing her mood drastically. "I wish she hadn't died. Just like I wish Cable hadn't died."

"I abandoned Charles because it seemed that all people did is die for his dream. The situation hasn't exactly improved. I lost Jean. I lost Cable. I lost Nate Grey. Rachael and Alex are lost in space somewhere. My father was killed by Vulcan, my brother. Then he was killed. Jean's entire family was slaughtered. I've lost so much—we've lost so much. This is what I have now...the task of saving mutantkind."

"That won't bring them back."

"I don't expect it to. I just don't want anyone else to lose everyone they love."

Taken aback, Hope couldn't find anything to say in response that didn't sound trite or condescending. Her fiery momentum had dissipated, replaced with sympathy and a level of understanding she couldn't quite grasp. But she realized that Scott was more than a cold, calculating leader and had probably experienced more grief than anyone on the island. But for the greater good, he simply packed his feelings into a little box and shut them in a closet, never to be opened again.

Hope decided that every day, she would say something to Scott—something pleasant to remind him that there was still some good and positivity in the world. She stood and crossed the room, and wasn't surprised when she wasn't stopped.

"I'm sorry," she said over her shoulder before departing, shutting the heavy oak door behind her.

"Yeah. I am too," Scott whispered.

Notes:

This story takes place between _Second Coming_ and _Schism_.


	2. Rebirth

"How do you feel now, Jean?"

The voice and the question caught her by surprise, which in itself was an anomaly. She had gotten painfully used to her near-omniscience, but the appearance and question by her long-time mentor, teacher, and ultimately friend was something that was an unknown.

She turned and smiled at the image of Professor Charles Xavier, as his translucent body solidified. He looked as he always did—lips pulled into a stern frown, forehead slightly wrinkled as he pondered an unrevealed conundrum, and sharp eyes fixated on his subject. He stood still with near-perfect posture, and his hands tucked behind his back.

He was angry. Disappointed. He wanted answers. The ones only she could give.

Jean Grey's own emerald eyes sparkled, revealing only a hint of the vast power she wielded. A smile would have been inappropriate, considering, so she kept a neutral expression. "There's a lot I could say, Professor. I know what you're thinking. I know what the world thinks. Things are only going to get worse from here."

"That's quite an understatement, young lady."

She couldn't help but render a nostalgic smile, reminded of her fledgling years as one of five students under his tutelage. Back then, he was quite stern with them, passing out reprimands and corrections with that same uncompromising tone. And now, she felt like that same dewy doe-eyed girl with developing telekinesis and telepathy, the weakest one of the group, who had just flubbed some exercise in the Danger Room. The memory faded along with her smile, and she met his gaze.

"I take responsibility for it all. Is that what you want to hear?"

Charles shook his head, his frown deepening disapprovingly. "It's not about what I want to hear. It's about what's happened to all of you."

His statement was loaded with emotion that encompassed the entire room. His original dream and the propagators of that dream had failed. They were all to blame in some way, but his piercing statement was solely directed towards her.

"It's also about what happened to you," she thoughtfully responded. A cleansing breath prepared her for what she said next. "This is the way it had to be. We all changed for better or for worse. We fought, won, and lost the battles. We were heroes. We were the villains. We lived. We died. We dreamed, Professor, right there beside you. And then there was nothing...oblivion as the dream crashed around us countless times. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened."

"Do you really believe that?"

"It's not a matter of believing it. It's history. None of us are without deep scars. I would venture to ask why _you_ didn't see this coming."

"Because, I'm not the Phoenix," he stated, leaving a moment of tense silence hanging between them. "Scott wasn't ready to run that school. And he wasn't ready to be the leader for the mutant race. Your influence—"

On some level, she wasn't surprised that Charles had somehow discerned the influence that pushed Scott to move past her final death, date Emma Frost, and keep the Xavier School for Higher Learning open. It was only a slight nudge, but it was interference, nonetheless, which always had unintended secondary and tertiary effects.

Despite his accusing tone, she didn't waver or apologize. "My minor influence erased a timeline of events that would be far worse than what you experienced. No matter which timeline I saw, one of us ultimately became the nemesis to your dream. It doesn't seem like it now, but this is the best outcome possible, given the alternatives."

"Scott's a world-class criminal. The X-Men are shattered and cast to the winds. The Avengers can't trust us, and we can't trust them. The world fears and hates mutants more than ever. The new mutants that appeared are stepping into prejudices far worse than anything we experienced. The future of this world is in jeopardy. And this is the best outcome?"

"Your dream had to die to be born again."

Again, an uncomfortable silence hung between them, as Charles processed her last words. Her explanation was simple and logical, yet, he couldn't accept something like that. More questions stampeded through his complex mind, but he decided to refrain from voicing them. Instead, there were more pressing matters.

"Why Hope?" Charles inquired, his tone only a shade lighter than before, despite the lack of change in expression.

Jean glanced away for a moment as she formulated her explanation. "The Phoenix fragment needed a host to disperse its power across the world...to focus its efforts. Hope is a part of me, but she is also her own person. The others were never supposed to become hosts for the Phoenix—you have the Avengers to thank for that. But they were correct in hypothesizing that Wanda threw off the balance of the universe by eradicating mutants. The Phoenix fragment was only meant to rebalance the equation."

"You said _fragment_."

"The full power of the Phoenix resides here with me, in the White Hot Room. When something draws our attention, a fragment of the Phoenix is sent to investigate. It can take a host, and that person can use that energy as needed. I already knew that Hope would utilize it to avoid creating the timeline Bishop traveled from, but I didn't know complications would arise. Ultimately, the choices that were made were their own."

His expression darkened, and Jean thought that he was going to argue. But he said nothing, his mind still churning over how to respond. She knew that he didn't agree, and all his blame kept circulating around her. However, he was conflicted within himself because he _didn't_ want to blame her for what happened.

"The world needed _you_, Jean."

The statement was simple, but to her, it sounded complex and heavy, a weight of responsibility that Jean had tried time and time again to shoulder. But something much larger than her wanted—needed—to eradicate her existence, and had succeeded in doing so more times than she could count. As much as she may have agreed with Charles, it wasn't an option for her in her current position and state.

"There are dark days ahead," she ominously replied. "And for that, I'm truly sorry. But some unexpected events and people will change the tide for the better. You're lucky...you get to have front row seats."

Jean let a warm smile spread across her face, as the anticipation of the future loomed in her mind. The present disturbed her as well, but she was well-beyond the here and now. Her focus was on the horizon and the upcoming changes for the world.

Charles nodded, accepting her invitation, while hoping that she was indeed right—with his death and the subsequent demise of his dream that it would be born again anew.


	3. The Way Things Are

Scott Summers sat on the edge of the grounds, his back barely touching the damp knoll sloping into the dense forest. He swallowed hard, as his mind raced through the events to this point.

An older Hank McCoy, blue and furry, ushered them through time in hopes of averting what he saw as mutant genocide. To that end, they confronted the wayward Cyclops, but the meeting was fleeting, and they parted without much gain. Now, under the care of the older X-Men, the young, original five decided to stay. Though Scott wholeheartedly agreed with his decision, he didn't realize the mental strain.

Everyone hated him.

The older X-Men saw him as the man who willingly embraced absolute power and used that power to kill their long-time mentor, Professor Charles Xavier. The younger X-Men didn't trust him. Their experience was limited, but they were easily shaped by the attitudes and demeanor of the others. They didn't want to be anywhere near him. Especially Jean.

That's probably the one that hurt the most. He loved her. Unequivocally. Compassionately. Unconditionally. But being a fledgling telepath granted her insight to their entire history to this point, and whatever it was, it drove her away.

Wolverine. The so-called X-Man. Scott couldn't accept that a brash, obnoxious ruffian was in some position of leadership within the ranks of the team. Hell, someone like that shouldn't even be on the team. Gambling a death threat in front of everyone? Is that what the X-Men had turned into?

"I must apologize for the lukewarm reception and reaction," a crisp female voice replied.

Scott whisked around. "You..."

"We have not had the time for proper introductions. I am Storm," Ororo took a seat next to him, a light breeze swaying her pristine white hair. When she glanced toward him, her icy eyes were kind and had years of wisdom and strength. Yet, there was a twinkle of hardened experience, an edge that made her formidable and respected.

"Storm," Scott repeated. "You're not coming out here to declare your hatred for Cyclops too, are you?"

Ororo caught the bitter defensiveness in his voice. "No. After all that has happened, I fear we are not at our best moment either. We are angry, hurt, betrayed—some more than others."

"Don't even bring up that Wolverine guy."

"You and he have a complicated history. With my good friend, Jean, in the middle. Aside from that tumultuous side of your relationship, he respected you, more so than probably anyone in his life. No matter how much you both loved her, he would follow you to the ends of the earth and beyond."

"I really didn't get that from our last exchange," Scott curtly replied.

"He was out of line, I shall agree with you on that point. Logan and I have been friends for many years, and I can say that of anyone that could hurt him, you had that ability."

"All he wants is revenge."

"No. I do not believe that is his desire. His feelings are...complicated."

"Jean?" his voice surprisingly shook, and he caught himself from saying anything more.

"Jean was well-loved by everyone. The tragic turns her life took were difficult for all of us. Especially for you and Logan. For her to be back in our midst, those old feelings have been reignited. For older Scott as well."

"This is one time where I don't know what to do."

"For better or worse, you cannot accept things the way they are. It is up to you to decide where to go from here." Ororo gracefully climbed to her feet. "It has been a long night. You should attempt to rest."

"Thanks," he said, unsure of where he stood with her. She departed just as quietly as her approach, and Scott realized that he was tense. Sleep wouldn't come easy for the foreseeable future. He had much think about, and a plan to formulate to make things right. With the X-Men. With Jean. And with himself.


	4. The Right Time

Author's Note: This chapter occurs between All-New X-Men #5 and #6.

James "Logan" Howlett cursed under his breath, the heat of the moment still burning through his soul. The midnight breeze did nothing to cool his infuriation as he stomped away from the chattering congregation of students and teachers, back into the halls of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. But even there, more people gathered and curious whispers washed through the crowd.

"There's nothin' else ta see. Ya all should get back ta bed," he gruffly announced. The curious murmurs remained, even as the group began to dissipate. He thought about returning outside, where the time-displaced, original X-Men and the current team were still trying to figure out the details and consequences of remaining.

"Logan, a word."

There was no polite tone in the summons, and as Ororo Munroe, the X-Man known as Storm, strode by, he knew that she had something on her mind. Her long hair swayed in a breeze seemingly meant for only her, as her smart pace swayed her elegant cape. He didn't have to see her face to know her part-African features were set in a hardened expression.

He heard more excited mumbles but ignored them, simply following Ororo into the main office. He closed the oak doors behind him, and the click of the mechanism had barely sounded before she spun on her heel, her sky blue eyes narrowed in anger.

"Explain to me that barbaric display of behavior," she demanded.

Logan shrugged as he poured himself a quick shot of whiskey. "That runt killed the Professor. He's lucky I didn't do somethin' worse." He downed it, lavishing momentarily in the burning in his throat.

"Worse?" she repeated, the intonation revealing disbelief at his response. "Did Charles leave you in charge of this school to make death threats to innocent teenagers?"

He slammed the glass on the bar. "This is Scott Summers we're talkin' about. Ya know, the one-eyed terrorist that killed Xavier? The guy that's all over the news, recruiting mutants into some twisted revolution? Or didja forget that?"

"Maybe you have forgotten, Logan," she icily said. "That young man is innocent of any crime. If anything, his hands are much cleaner than any of ours. You had no right to threaten him. Not to mention you did so in front of the students. If you are to be headmaster, then you must keep your personal feelings under control."

He finally met her glare, his own hardened, dark eyes meeting hers. She was challenging his actions, and he gave her credit—she wasn't about to back down until her point was made. "Hmph. If I didn't know any better, I'd say there's somethin' else on yer mind."

She crossed her arms, her eyes never averting away. "I have my suspicions, but they shall remain unspoken."

"Nah. That's not yer style. Ya got somethin' ta say, spit it out."

"Your personal feelings...it's not just about Scott. You must remember that these teenagers are not the people we are most familiar with. They are at a different place in their lives and have yet to discover themselves and the harsh world around them. The Jean Grey with us now is not the one you fell in love with. That Scott Summers is not the one who killed the Professor. Do not impress your personal feelings on these strangers."

Logan felt as though he had been slapped. Twice. Jean—he didn't want to think about her. Not now. And Scott. Damn him.

"What, now yer gonna lecture me?" he curtly asked.

"Someone must. Even Charles realized when he was wrong. If you want to continue his legacy, maybe you should learn to do the same."

If anyone could talk sense into him, it was her. They had been through so much as X-Men and as friends. Though he didn't want to admit it at first, the realization crept in that he had reacted in an unbecoming way.

"Alright, damn. I—I lost my cool. Seein' him there..." he trailed off.

"You're angry, I understand," she said, her voice a little gentler. "But you respect him too much to allow yourself to act this way. Trust me, my ire with Scott Summers is beyond comprehension. Deep in my heart, I know that the leader he once was is still there. His hands have been dirtied, and his life tormented more times than we know. And the worst part is that he kept it all inside. Madelyne, Nathan, Apocalypse, the Phoenix, Nate Grey, and most of all, Jean. No, I shall not forgive him for the murder of Charles. All things considered, I will still reach out to him and help him recover his true self. And that starts with the young Scott sitting outside."

"Yer right, but ya already know that. It's too soon...just too soon."

"As you well know, everything happens either too soon or too late. Very rarely are things in our world on time and most definitely not in our favor. However, we act and react to make the best of it. I know that you will do the same, Logan."

"I owe you, 'Ro."

"I shall collect when the time is right. I bid you goodnight." She brushed past him, with that regal strut that set her apart from any other woman he had ever known. Not only that, but she wasn't afraid to hold him accountable, if needed. And with these kids around, he was definitely going to need it.

He rubbed his neck, vowing to say something a little less threatening to the young Scott tomorrow. For tonight, he'd meditate to rid himself of the gleeful thought of piercing his claws through the young man's chest.


	5. The Reason

Author's Note: This chapter occurs after All-New X-Men #8.

Hank McCoy inhaled deeply as he entered his room, a sizable space with a sitting area beyond the immediate entryway with a complete bedroom suite adjacent. He had chosen this room because it was right above his lab, and Logan had been kind enough to ensure there was a personal elevator installed for quick access. Not only that, but he also had a magnificent first floor view of the rear gardens, something he appreciated every day the rising sun peeked into his room.

It was another beautiful day, and he should have been in better spirits, considering. But a sense of dread knotted his stomach, and his unsettled disposition grew worse by the minute. He gently slid onto the couch and laid his head back, trying to collect himself.

The conversation less than an hour ago with Steve Rogers, the hero known as Captain America, hadn't gone well at all. For maybe the first time in his life, Hank didn't have control of a situation he created and unabashedly admitted such to his other teammates, the Avengers. He brought past versions of the original five X-Men, himself included, to the present but had left them to their own devices. Between Logan chasing down Scott and Kitty taking charge of the doe-eyed X-Men, there hadn't really been anything for him to do. Except worry.

He was worried about Jean Grey. Over the past few years, he had to ask himself when he _wasn't_ worried about her. It had only been a few days since their arrival, but already, Jean's powers seemed to surpass the levels that they should have been. With the introduction of new variables, her powers were most likely to fluctuate, but what if she—

Even beginning to think of something like that made Hank rethink his decision of bringing their past incarnations into the present. And the longer they stayed, the more dangerous it became.

Hank glanced to his left to admire the cloudless sky and garden just beyond his window, and when he turned back, he had to blink a few times to ensure he wasn't simply imagining Jean Grey sitting in the chair across from him.

"My stars and garters. This is quite an unexpected surprise."

The redhead warmly smiled at him, a lively twinkle in her emerald eyes. Dressed in a simple, yet classy black blouse, tan business slacks, and matching heels, she looked as though she was ready to start the day in a lofty corner office of a massive corporation. "Hello, Hank," she greeted. "I wish I could say it was good to see you, but considering the circumstances—" her voice trailed off, but her smile didn't falter.

Hank took a deep breath. "From your sudden appearance and covert chastising allusion, I can safely presume that you are not in agreement with my previous course of action. And that your presence does not indicate another intergalactic campaign against your cosmic counterpart or that you intend on voraciously devouring our lowly planet."

"No on all counts," she quickly replied, but kept a friendly tone. "These days my intervention is limited. But after witnessing what happened, I had to chance coming here, no matter the consequences." Jean slowed her pace, taking a cleansing breath before continuing. "You're playing a dangerous game by disrupting the past. We've seen the dire ramifications of that. When David accidentally killed Professor Xavier in the past, it created a completely divergent timeline. One where humanity suffered deeply at the hands of Apocalypse. Not only that, but it nearly destroyed our reality as it is. You would risk doing something like that again by bringing our past selves here?"

Hank crossed his arms, his frown deepening. "Considering a lack of action on your part, I dare venture to say that we're on the upswing of current events, considering."

"That's not fair," she replied, feeling the pain of his stinging accusation.

He took a calming breath, regretting his previous statement. Softening his voice, he said, "You're the Phoenix, Jean. Somehow, you always have been. Hope, Cable, the Phoenix, the Professor's death, the tension with the Avengers, now Scott—you can see it all from your perch high above the rest of us. But you did nothing. Our people are on the verge of an all-out revolution, a conflict on a scale much larger than ever before with none other than Scott, of all people, leading it."

Hank didn't reveal anything she didn't already know, but she didn't interrupt. She let his words hang in the air before offering her own explanation. "The Phoenix fragment had a simple purpose—to restore balance and order to evolution. That was all. My relationship with the Phoenix is complicated at best, but you already know that. In some ways, it's wholly me, but in other ways, I'm nothing but a mere fragment of its vast existence. There are some things that I simply cannot explain—things I can't influence or interfere with. But I'm sure that none of this _should_ have happened."

"Things would be different if you hadn't died."

Again, Jean was pelted by his emotion-filled comment. "But that's the path that I had to take," she weakly retorted. For a moment, she considered that maybe Hank was right. Maybe it was all her fault. But still, the past was a hard thing to change, and this was the hand she was dealt.

"Then you should understand that this is the path _I_ had to take," Hank countered. "Considering everything else that has transpired, this is the only thing stopping an all-out mutant war. I could only hope that maybe seeing our old selves will snap Scott out of his—"

"But that's not why you brought them here, is it?" Jean interjected, her voice firm. "You know the dangers of what you've done. With every passing moment, you're increasing the risk to them—us. But you don't care about that, do you?"

The underlying accusation was clear. And honestly, Hank didn't have a suitable answer for his teammate. Responding with a clear voice, he said, "We've been friends for many years, Jean. And I dare not lie to you of all people. No, I don't care about the danger—not when we're on the brink of something much larger than the Avengers versus the X-Men. This isn't like the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, a small faction of upstarts trying to make a political statement. This is a revolution indeed—a slippery slope Scott is leading that will not stop. Until it is forced."

Her emerald eyes locked onto Hank. "You don't trust Scott, do you?"

"How can I? He's not the same man we grew up with. And maybe that's what I want to show him—just how far he's strayed from himself. From us. From the Professor."

"But this is Scott. He knows what he's doing. His vision and dream are clear to him."

"You agree with what he's doing? Of all people, I thought—"

Jean shook her head in disagreement, her fiery locks swaying languidly. "Scott has made poor choices. We all have experienced questionable times in our lives. Scott's no different. Of anyone, he's dealt with the most heartache and loss, but he has always kept his eye on a goal—he has always fought for us. Now, that's all he has—he's fighting for us...he's just on another side."

Hank looked away, clearly annoyed. "I wish we could see it as simply as you do, Jean. But it's not easy for us to support the man that killed the Professor, aggressively attacks humans, and now stands against the Avengers."

"He simply needs your understanding."

"That is something that I cannot give," Hank stood and crossed the room, peering into the clear sky.

"Things are only going to get worse."

"If you know that, then maybe you should do something about it."

He turned to say something else, but she was gone as if she had never been there. For a moment, he considered that the entire conversation has been an internal debate within himself. Jean hadn't really suddenly appeared in his room—the only Jean Grey was the young woman fighting to save the X-Men's future.

Hank couldn't help to ponder whether he was actually helping to save the world or becoming the instrument that would cause its destruction.


	6. Heart's Desire

Author's Note: This chapter occurs after All-New X-Men #15.

I.

_I'm not in love with him._

The words came so easily that in retrospect, Jean Grey wondered if she had ever felt anything for her teammate, the stoic Scott Summers.

Telepathy was a dangerous thing, especially for an inexperienced person. And Jean fit right into that category. Unexpectedly thrust into her powers, she struggled daily to keep them under control, but that was much easier said than done. Her magnificent introduction into the world of telepaths included the burden of discovering her future—one that included her marriage to Scott Summers, their complicated relationship, and ultimately, her death. And that wasn't the life she ever imagined for herself.

While working with the older Hank McCoy, a furry, blue version of her teammate, she inadvertently detected his lovelorn thoughts for her. At first, she was taken aback, as the younger Hank never said anything to even remotely flirtatious to her. But the thoughts and feelings were intense—he honestly loved her, and for that moment in time, she embraced it willingly.

So, she dared to change history—Jean confronted her teammate, and after some prodding, he confessed his love. And it ended with a passionate kiss. Had she done it because she really and truly loved Hank? Or was it simply an act of defiance to the future she now witnessed?

For a moment, she completely forgot about Scott Summers...forgot about the craziness around them...she was lost in the moment. Even heading back to her room, the nearly identical woman didn't unnerve her upon their second passing, but her euphoria faded when she returned to her room. She once again studied the invitation announcing her and Scott's wedding, and she sunk to the ground, feeling as though she had betrayed him.

But they weren't together. She was single and free to do what she wanted. Besides, maybe Scott was better off with someone else. But what if that only made things worse, turning him into a merciless killer instead of a wayward revolutionary. Then again, maybe it was Jean's influence and death that drove him to this, so if she weren't in his life, then perhaps—

A knock at the door startled Jean from her circular argument. She hoped it wasn't Hank—despite what had just happened, she suddenly didn't want to see him. And she damn well didn't want to see Scott. She contemplated using her telepathy to scan the person on the other side of the door, but it had gotten her in enough trouble today.

Taking a chance, Jean called, "Come in."

The door opened slowly, and in stepped the nearly identical woman Jean crossed earlier. She wanted to say something, but her words caught in her throat, so she remained silent.

"We're probably thinking the same thing," Rachel joked, but instantly regretted it when Jean reddened with embarrassment. "Okay, maybe not. I'm not reading your mind, so you don't have to worry." She closed the door behind her, noticing the wedding invitation on the ground. "Ummm...we passed each other in the hallway earlier," she paused. "It's kind of strange seeing you here."

"Trust me, it's strange being here," Jean responded with a bit more bitterness than she truly intended.

Rachel realized that Ororo was probably trying to warn her about the presence of a younger, past version of Jean Grey. She had so many questions, but stalled, simply admiring the budding woman that Rachel only met as an adult.

It was clear that Rachel inherited nearly all of her looks from her mother. They possessed the brightest emerald eyes and almost crimson hair. Fair skin with naturally, slightly blushed cheeks. A budding figure that was firm but feminine. Even at this age, Rachel could see everything that her mother was right here in this young woman.

"Should I even ask how you got here?" Rachel inquired.

"It's complicated—like everything else. We're all here...Scott, Bobby, and Hank. Warren's here too, but he went off with your Scott and that horrible woman, Emma Frost. Ugh...I can't forget about those terrible triplets too."

Rachel laughed. "Ah, you met your adulthood nemesis and her psychic, and creepy, progeny. I'm sure you enjoyed that."

"Yeah, right."

There was a pause, and then they both burst into laughter.

"So, you're my—" Jean trailed off, suddenly uneasy with the idea of having offspring several years older than her.

Rachel filled in the blank with a smile. "Daughter. Yes. I'm a victim of time-travel too."

"And your father...?"

"Scott. Of course."

The sound of his name made Jean frown and her brows furrow. "Why do you say that?"

"Technically, you have three kids running around in this world. Well, there's also Stryfe and Hope, but that's a conversation for another day. Anyways, all of us are from different timelines and way different futures. But the one thing that remains constant is you and Scott. No matter what world it is, the both of you always find each other."

Jean's frown didn't dissolve. "Maybe that's the problem."

"Why would it be?"

"Me. It's always me. And the Phoenix. I seem to die much more than I got to live."

"Yeah, that's definitely a problem."

"Do you know how it feels...seeing your future all around you, and nothing is the way you imagined? Everything and everyone is so different. So...wrong..." Jean was lost in reimagining everything they had seen to this point. The images flashed through her mind until she pushed them out.

"This isn't wrong, Jean. This is life. It's never going to be perfect. Especially in our world. We've had our fair share of heartache and turmoil."

"But when does it end? Professor X—he had a vision of co-existence. And peace. But he's dead, and things are far worse than when we started. It's like were fighting for nothing. And now Scott..."

"Is this about _your_ Scott or _our_ Scott?"

Jean cast her eyes downward, almost embarrassed to say anymore. "Both," she finally responded. "When we confronted your Scott, one of the first things he said when he saw me was that he loved me. I could feel him...the passion...the sincerity...it was pure. But he killed the Professor. I can't love someone who would destroy everything we're fighting for. And...and maybe I just can't see my Scott the same anymore."

"Have his feelings for you changed?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. We haven't really spoken at all since I asked him to stay away from me. We've done a great job of avoiding each other. He's probably the one I can telepathically block out the easiest. I don't want to know what he's thinking. Either one of them."

_Whose idea was it to bring them here?_ Rachel questioned to herself.

"Hank. Your Hank," Jean quietly answered.

_Damn him. What was he thinking?!_

"He had good intentions."

_"The road to hell is paved with good intentions,"_ Rachel thought but then paused, realizing she hadn't said anything beforehand aloud. "Oh, I was projecting, wasn't I?"

Jean smiled warmly, glad she wasn't the only one who had problems with telepathy control. "Yeah, it's still hard to block out random thoughts. It keeps getting me in trouble."

"Sorry. This is hard for you. You shouldn't have to see all of this. Considering our entire world hasn't fallen apart yet, you and the others probably end up right back to where Hank plucked you from with no memory of any of this."

Jean paled, and her face instantly contorted into an angry grimace. "But that's not fair. We're here to see this...we have to remember!"

"It's dangerous tampering with the past," Rachel replied with a warning tone. "You aren't supposed to see this."

"But you time-traveled here, right? Aren't you supposed to make something right to save your future?"

She shook her head regretfully. "I can't. This isn't my past. But I was stranded here, and this became my home."

"But if you could have changed it, would you?"

"Jean, that's not fair to ask."

Frustrated, Jean continued. "We're experiencing all this simply to forget? That makes no sense at all. We have to stop Scott from whatever he's trying to do and make things right. And take back this knowledge so we don't make the same mistakes."

"The problem with that is you'll destroy everyone and everything here if you do."

The abrupt revelation was something Jean hadn't considered, and she took a moment to ponder over it. "I—I don't want that," she responded, "but I don't want any you to have to live this terrible life."

"This is our battle. You're worried about the Professor's dream, but you don't have to. We live it and breathe it every day. And it may seem like things are bad, but they could always be worse. I've seen worse. Far worse."

"Everything is happening so fast. Rachel, what if something else happens? Something that changes us permanently? The longer we stay here, the more likely that something terrible is going to happen."

"You're right," Rachel said thoughtfully.

"What if...what if someone knows that we're here? I mean someone could travel into the past...this present...to change something that we're doing right now. We're not supposed to be here, and maybe someone else realizes it too."

The hypothetical situation gave Rachel pause. Jean was absolutely right—in the same vein that the young X-Men traveled here, someone from the future could easily backtrack to their time for reasons related to their presence.

"Relax, you're overthinking this, like we Grey gals tend to do," Rachel soothed, attempting to ease easing Jean's concerns.

"That's not going to work, Rachel. You know that I'm right."

As much as she didn't want to burden the young woman, Rachel didn't have much coice. "Yes, you are. So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. No matter what we do, doesn't everything still turn out like this?"

"Just don't lose hope. If there's anything that you have to remember, it's that."

Hope. It was something that Jean hadn't considered before. Right then, she vowed to give the world hope when it needed it the most.

"What are you going to do about Scott?"

"I don't know. I just don't know..."

"Listen, I'm here for you. Don't try to take all of this on by yourself. This is a lot to take in. For all of you. And I'll talk to Hank." Rachel stood and stretched briefly before heading for the door.

"Thank you. For talking. And sorry for the awkwardness in the hallway."

Rachel smiled. "Anytime...Mom."

Jean watched as the other redhead left her room, closing the door gently behind her. She had much to consider, but right now, she was content on simply hugging her knees, while thinking of nothing at all.

II.

_I shouldn't have thought that,_ Hank chastised himself as he padded down one of the main mansion corridors. It was bad enough that he had forsaken the standard premise of not tampering with the past by bringing the young X-Men into the present. Now, he may have complicated things even more with his reckless thoughts about Jean.

Yes, maybe at one time he did hold those feelings for her. But so much time had passed—Jean was like a sister to him. And he admired Jean and Scott's relationship, and was always there to support them through the good and the bad. So why did he all of the sudden forget that?

I haven't been myself lately, he answered to himself. Since his near-death incident, Hank really hadn't been himself. He mostly stayed confined to his lab and kept his distance from the young X-Men, who he really should have maintained full responsibility for. Yet, when Kitty offered to attend to them and train them, he didn't object. He even trusted young Scott with Logan, despite the older X-Man's unruly outburst upon their arrival.

_I need to get back to being the old Hank,_ he resolved. But before he could elaborate on a plan to do that, he saw young Hank beaming as he bounded down the hallway.

"Ah. My young, jubilant self! What has you so excited?" older Hank asked.

"I just professed my love to Jean. And we kissed!" He smiled didn't waiver for a moment, even when his older self's expression descended into one of concern and disapproval.

"Oh my stars and garters. Such a thing, while previously heart's desire, was not to transpire. Not here. Not now. Not ever."

"But it did!" young Hank burst. "Do you know how long I've waited to tell Jean how I felt? I always felt guilty because Scott—"

Older Hank cut him off sharply. "This isn't fair to him. Have you told him?"

Still riding high from his encounter with Jean, young Hank's smile still didn't fade. "I'll inform young Mr. Summers upon his return. This is what we wanted, right? Shouldn't you be happy for me? For us?"

"It isn't my desire to disrupt the past," Hank weakly replied.

"Wouldn't you have pondered that _before_ you spirited us here? Besides, I have a feeling she got the notion from you."

Hank felt as though he had been punched in the gut. "She—she wasn't supposed to know that. That wasn't the intention..."

"She's a new telepath. You must have known that she would detect your thoughts. And you wanted things to be different, right? Well, they're changing, so you're getting exactly what you asked for. If you want to know the truth, you shouldn't have brought us here."

And there—his younger self said what probably everyone else was thinking but too respectful to say. First imaginary Jean. Now his younger self. They were right—he shouldn't have brought them here. And the longer they stayed, the harder it would be to send them back.

"Listen," Hank warned, but stopped when his younger self turned his back.

"No lectures. We're here to make things better, and if being with Jean makes it better, then I'm all for it. You should be too," young Hank then walked away, leaving no opportunity for further discussion.

Slowly, things were starting to unravel. If he didn't return them to the past, it seemed inevitable that something terrible was bound to happen. However, Hank couldn't have known that he was painfully correct...

End


End file.
